Red Right Hand
by MissWinkles
Summary: "You're one microscopic cog in his catastrophic plan, designed and directed by his red right hand." A selection of The Fall chapters from Edward's POV. Definitely, definitely, definitely rated M.
1. Chapter 1

**Red Right Hand - Chapter 1**

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 **You guys wanted to know more about Edward - well here he is in all his raw, messy, bloody glory.**

 **This chapter sits somewhere between The Fall Ch3 & 4.**

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The basketball game plays on the radio, the sound almost drowned out by the rumble of the car engine, my attention only half on the game. I sit, idling, waiting for the boys to finish the job, a book sitting in my lap unread.

I rest my head against the back of the seat, my mind a thousand places it shouldn't be instead of on the task at hand.

Because ever since last night my mind hasn't been anywhere else but on _her_.

" _Come on," she says, holding out the hand that isn't wrapped around a laundry basket. I wait a few steps down, watching her little boy pull himself up the last few stairs one by one. He's clearly determined to do it on his own, even if it takes him all day._

 _She looks down at me, all soft brown eyes and the kind of innocence in her face that you don't get around here much. "Hi," she says quietly._

 _I tug my headphones out of my ears and I clear my throat, but the minute I go to say something to her it's like my tongue swells up in my mouth and just stand there. In the end I just kind of nod and smile a bit._

 _She smiles down at me apologetically. "Sorry." With a quick snap of her fingers, she ushers the boy toward her. "Let's go, Emmett, move your butt."_

 _All I can do is stand there waiting._

 _I have to look away though. At my feet, at the wall, at the little boy as he slowly climbs up the last step, anywhere but at her because if I start all I'll do is stare because... damn. She's soft brown and pale skin and maybe a little on the thin side but still beautiful. Too beautiful to be in a city like this, so filled with sin._

 _At the landing I watch from the corner of my eye as she reaches the door of her apartment._

" _Bye," she says, and again my voice is fucking useless._

 _I stand behind my closed door, eyes shut, willing my heart to calm the fuck down. Idiot._

The police scanner on my dashboard crackles, the basketball crowd roaring over the radio drowning out the voices.

I try to compare the girl I met in the hallway to the one on stage. The one who last night captured the entire room's attention. Even beneath a blonde wig I'd recognized her, and as if the world needed to tell me again to leave her alone there it was.

One of Marcus' girls.

Bad news.

Trouble with a capital T.

Everyone knows those girls are as good as his property. And Marcus is not the kind of guy who likes to share.

Jasper appears, opening the passenger door and sliding a duffel bag onto the floor. A blast of cold air follows him, rattling me out of my thoughts.

I turn the radio down a little. "Get what you need?"

He nods, patting the bag at his feet as Riley slips into the back, his leather jacket squeaking as he does.

The engine revs as I roll out of the driveway. The car thunders over the Third Street bridge, the three of us quiet.

"… _attention all units…eastbound on Boyle Street…driving a silver Hyundai…"_

Jasper reaches over to turn the scanner down and the basketball back up. "I've had about enough of this place," he says, sounding as tired as I feel. "Time to go home."

My foot mashes the accelerator as we ease onto the freeway, the lights of the city fading into the distance behind us.

* * *

Sitting at a stoplight eight hours later, I roll the window down in an attempt to get some cool air on my face. I'm doing anything I can to keep myself awake just a little longer. The late-afternoon air smells clean and fresh and I can almost feel the approaching rain.

Right ahead I can see the dark grey outline of my building against the sky. It's only a block away, but it feels like a million miles. I press the heels of my hands to my eyes until red dots appear in my vision, rubbing until the itchy-tired feeling goes away.

It's been a long few days.

The idea of a hot shower and at least twelve solid hours of sleep is the only thing that pushes me homeward. By some miracle I make it to the parking lot of my building, and the car is barely off before I'm grabbing the backpack on the seat beside me, and hauling my tired ass out. My clothes feel heavy against my skin, my shoes like lead. It suddenly feels like there's twenty pounds sitting on each shoulder, attached to each eyelid, tied to the bottom of my feet. My shoes scuff across the pavement as I put one foot in front of the other, trudging slowly towards the apartment block.

A few feet from the car I stop, remembering the coffee cup that's sitting in the cup holder in my car. It's still half-full of sugar-laden, double-strength coffee, and the idea of leaving it there, of the paper cup being eaten away by the liquid inside, makes me unnecessarily stressed.

My hand reaches for my hair but I stop, Jasper's constant taunting of my nervous habit echoing in my ears.

Sighing, I drop my hand to my side. I'd rather sleep tonight than lie in bed worrying about a leaking coffee cup. I turn back, almost wrenching the car door off its hinges before grabbing the stupid fucking cup.

I'm so tried I can't even appreciate the perfect shot as I toss the cup into a nearby trashcan.

I untangle my earphones from their place in my pocket, and am about to slip them into my ears, ready to silence the world for a few hours, when a noise catches my attention. It's just a laugh – innocuous enough normally – but the loud and unmistakably sour note to it is what puts me on edge.

There are four of them. I've seen them before; they like to hang around outside the building like a pack of dogs, slobbering and pissing all over the place. They're regular run-of-the-mill douche bags, the kind of dickhead I deal with daily, and on any other day I'd keep my head down walk straight past.

But not today.

Because someone somewhere either hates me or loves me. I can't decide.

It's the girl from the club, the one I've seen around the building, her kid too.

She's standing with her back to me, with her shoulders set and her posture rigid. One of the guys leans in, and every muscle in my body stiffens as I watch her flinch at his closeness. I wait for her to lash out – she doesn't seem like the type to take that kind of shit from anyone – but when I see the tiny blond head at her side I understand her reluctance.

She's protecting him.

This pack of degenerate assholes has her and her son cornered.

The edge of my vision fades and the blood thumps so violently through my veins that I can hear it in my ears. With startling swiftness the heaviness in my limbs evaporates. Gone is the weariness behind my eyes and the softness in my muscles. It's so instantaneous that it catches me by surprise, the intensity almost knocking the wind out of me.

Bella isn't defenseless, I know that. But with her son at her side, her hands are tied.

Mine, however, are not.

Mine itch with the need to feel the bones of his face give beneath them. They beg me to show him what fear really feels like, what it's like to be overpowered by someone bigger and meaner that he is.

My feet are moving before my brain has a chance to catch up, and I step into the space between them, careful not to scare the little kid any more than he already is. I'm not a big guy by any means, but I do my best to shield the two of them, keeping my back turned to her and my voice quiet.

"She said back off."

His breath smells of cheap liquor and cigarettes. Color flushes his cheeks and I can practically see him sizing me up. I lift my head a little and my hands clench at my sides – _take a good look_. The muscles in my arms twitch with the need to release the anger inside. If it weren't for the kid behind me I'd be on this guy in a second.

He makes some stupid comment, calling her a whore, and it takes every ounce of restraint I have left to stop myself from lunging at him.

"Step. Back." My voice wobbles with the intensity of my anger.

Something inside his tiny brain clicks, and he makes the wise decision to take a step back. As he does, his friends follow, and I don't even need to tell her to move, smart girl that she is she's already halfway to the building. The doors swing shut with a loud slam, and I step forward, my fists already clenched.

But one of his friends is already there, his hands in the air in surrender.

"We're leaving," he drawls. "We don't want no trouble."

They push past me all at once, and my stomach clenches.

 _Too late._

"She's all yours. Fuckin' pussy," spits one as they pass, and my body thrums with pent-up anger. The only thing that stops me from going after him is the idea that she could come downstairs again at any moment. The tiny part of my brain still ruled by logic doesn't want her to see whatever it is I keep beneath this careful exterior. She doesn't need to see me beat this guy to a bloody mess.

When they're out of my sight I walk back to my car and throw my bag back into the back seat. The wheels crunch as they spin beneath me, and with a shaking hand I pull my cell from my pocket as I tear out onto the road.

It takes me ten blocks before I'm calm enough to work my phone, let alone hold a fucking conversation.

Two minutes later I pull into a gas station and turn the car off.

My hands are still shaking. I hold them up in front of me, willing the tremors to subside. I lay them on my lap as I take long deep breaths, my head resting the steering wheel as I try to pull enough air into my lungs to stop the sound of the blood thumping in my head.

But with my eyes closed all I can see is the kid's tiny hand against Bella's thigh, the way she flinched when that scumbag neared, and even worse, the way my warped imagination shows me exactly what could have happened if I hadn't been there.

I'm not a fucking saint – I know that. I do things that aren't considered nice. I hurt people, and I make a living out of doing so. And believe me, the living is good. But no matter how far down the rabbit hole I fall, no matter how dirty my hands become, women and children are where I draw the line. I might not be the best example of a good guy, but something about hurting women just smacks of cowardice, and I won't stand for it.

A silver BMW pulls into the gas station, and Jasper gets out a minute later. He slides into the passenger seat of my car without a word.

He lights a cigarette, and we sit in silence.

When I'm sure my voice works properly again, I relay the events of the last half hour to him, and instead of asking why the fuck I'm so riled up about some chick that lives in my apartment building that I barely know, he just unlocks his phone and makes a few calls.

As far as being a boss goes, Jasper is pretty decent. As a friend, there's no comparison.

An hour later, he's still slouched in the seat beside me, his button-up rolled to his elbows, a cigarette dangling from the hand that hangs out of the window. He's always a picture of calm, and collected. He doesn't ask questions – he doesn't need to. Plus, the guy's always up for bad behavior. He might look like he's got it all together, like he's a real fucking gentleman, but he lives for this shit.

Which is why I trust him with my life, and vice versa.

On the other hand, Riley, who's now sitting in the back seat, couldn't care less where we're going. He just wants to stop at a convenience store for some gum on the way and if there's trouble then fine.

It only took two calls to find out who that fucker at the apartment building was. It turns out he's no one. Which makes this even easier since it means no one will miss him.

We park across the street from a shitty-looking bar downtown.

"This it?" asks Jasper, gesturing to the bar as he flicks his cigarette butt out the window.

I nod, my hands wrapped around the steering wheel so hard my knuckles are white.

Riley leans forward from the back seat, resting his arms on the back of our seats. "Just him inside?"

"I hope not," says Jasper. He slips the tie he's wearing from around his neck, tossing it on the floor at his feet. "I'm in the mood for a dance."

"Just him," I say. "I just want him."

I turn to Jasper and Riley and they both nod in agreement. I step out of the car and they follow.

Riley unfolds himself from the backseat, tossing his jacket over the headrest before he closes the door. "Need me to bring anything?" he asks, gesturing to the boot and the tools I keep stowed away in there.

I shake my head.

The pool hall is dark and smells of stale beer. The bartender nods at me as I pass, barely registering our presence before turning back to the TV. I can feel Jasper and Riley at my back; hear Jasper's Italian leather shoes against the shitty tiled floor. This is why I called them. No matter what's about to go down, I know without a shadow of a doubt that these guys will have my back no matter what.

I scan the room, and finding him hidden up the back, bent over the felt table, lining up a shot.

My pace increases and my pulse begins to race.

Jasper passes a pool cue over my shoulder, and I swing it around, grasping the handle tightly. It's not a bat, which is what I'd prefer, but it'll do the job. It feels like my muscles release all of their tension and calm washes over me until all I can hear is the sound of my own breathing.

The guy barely has a moment to register my presence before the wooden cue cracks across his back, snapping in half on impact. Jasper and Riley are at my side, ready to take on anyone stupid enough to step in.

Sadly for Jasper, no one steps up.

The guy's hand flies to his lower back, and he shoots upwards with a howl. I take the chance to use the broken stick in my hand to break his nose.

Yelling, he clutches a hand to his bloody face. "What the fuck?"

When he looks up from his hands and sees me, I watch the recognition alight his eyes, and I can't help but smile a little when it's replaced by fear.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," he says, holding up a hand in his defense. "I wasn't gonna hurt her, I swear."

I fist a hand into the front of his shirt, and I can feel the pulse in his neck pounding against my knuckles as I pull him to me.

"We were just playin' around, dude. No harm done," he says.

The blood from his nose drips over his top lip, staining his teeth red.

"No harm done?" I repeat. I cock my head to the side a little. "How do you figure that?"

"She's fine, right?" he almost smiles, his lips forming a wobbly version of a grimace. "I wouldn't go near one of Marcus' bitches anyways."

Beside me, Jasper chuckles quietly, shaking his head. "Wrong answer."

I grab a pool ball from the table, clenching it in my fist. He pulls himself free of my grip and takes a step back, but I counter with two of my own, and finally my fists get what they want. I pull my arm back over and over, and by the time I'm finished, they're shaking and I can feel Jasper pulling me back by the t-shirt. I shrug him off, but take a step towards the guy slumped over on the floor. Panting, I lower my head to his so that I can look him in the eye. He flinches as I lower my mouth to his ear.

"If you go anywhere near that building again I'll kill you," I whisper, watching the blood drip off the bottom of his chin and onto the floor. "Do you understand?"

He nods slightly, and I nod in reply, using his t-shirt to wipe the blood off of my hand.

"Good."

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 **I have one or two more, which i'll post soon. xx**

 **Wink**


	2. Chapter 2

**This chapter you find out exactly who it was that attacked Marcus and his beloved Porsche. (Like you didn't already know...)**

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I have my phone in my hand before I've even exited the parking lot.

This is a bad idea of epic proportions. I shouldn't be interfering like this in Bella's life, but for the second time since I met her it's like I can't think of anything other than protecting her. Of making her life better.

So I drive.

It's a Sunday night, so Jasper will be having dinner with his family, but Riley answers after the first ring, and is waiting outside of the garage within ten minutes.

Like I said, the guy is always up for no good.

I leave my car inside, opting to take Riley's car instead. Even after four in the afternoon he looks like he's only just woken up. He's got a burger in one hand, and the steering wheel in the other, and from the five o'clock shadow on his jaw I'm assuming he hasn't been home yet.

Loos doesn't begin to describe Riley.

"What is it with you and this girl?" he asks as I slide into the passenger seat, flicking aside burger wrappers and other shit that's strewn across the seat. I ignore his question, the question that I seem to ask myself every fucking day, but tell him everything she told me at the diner.

I tell him about the bruises Marcus leaves on her skin. The expectation he has that she'll sell herself for more money. The drugs. The fear. The deadbeat ex in jail. All of it.

I leave out the parts he doesn't need to know - the parts that I know were for me only.

Those details I keep to myself, like pieces of a Bella puzzle that I'm slowly beginning to put together. I lock them away with the other things I'm learning about her. Like she looks adorable in her knit cap, and that she never wears perfume but still smells amazing, and that when she looks at her son she gets this look in her eyes that I would do anything to have directed at me.

"Marcus needs to learn a lesson," I say as my fists tighten in my lap. "We've been waiting for a good enough reason, and here it is."

"Yeah, I get that," Riley answers warily. "And don't get me wrong, Marcus is an asshole of epic proportions who deserves everything he gets, but why her? Why now?"

I don't answer because I don't fucking know.

"Is it the kid?"

Something hot flares deep in my gut, something I can't swallow down – something that's accompanied by the urge to punch Riley repeatedly in his stupid fucking mouth. Emmett has no place here. He's a good kid, who's completely innocent of all of this shit, and just the sound of his name from Riley's lips makes my muscles tense with an insane urge to protect him.

"It's not just the kid," I reply, my fingers tightening around the leather seat beneath my legs. "It's not just her either."

Sighing, Riley turns his focus back to the road. "Then what's this all about, Masen? I've never seen you like this before."

He's right; I can normally keep it together. I'm not the kind of guy who lets people get under his skin. But there's something about Bella. She's not just under my skin, she's everywhere, and no matter how hard I try to keep her at a safe distance, I can't turn off whatever it is inside of me that she's flicked on.

When I think about sitting in that restaurant, the way her face twisted and her eyes went empty as she told me about Marcus, it sends a fire through me like nothing I've experienced before.

"She just needs someone to look out for her," I say finally, through a tight jaw. "She has no one but the kid. No family, no friends, no one to stop someone like Marcus fucking up her entire life."

"And you figure that person could be you?"

I can't describe how desperately I want that person to be me. But I also can't describe how scared it makes me to think of Bella and Emmett anywhere near me and my life.

It feels like I'm careening headlong into something I have no power to stop. And maybe no want to.

"Just drive, Riley."

* * *

A few minutes later he pulls up a couple of blocks from the club, and we both jump out.

He opens the boot, waving his hand over the space like a game show host.

I don't even think about it.

"Always with the wrench," chuckles Riley, who reaches for a length of steel pipe as I conceal the tool up my sleeve. He closes the trunk quietly, and we both pull our hoods up over our heads, and I slip a pair of black leather gloves on to conceal the ink on the back of my hands.

We're quiet as we walk, and I can feel the cold steel of the wrench in my sleeve pressing against my arm, its weight like a comfort against my skin. The parking lot is empty, save for the bright yellow dick sitting under the streetlight.

The sun has well and truly gone down, and shadows are dark enough to hide all manner of sin. Which is good, since the shadows are where I live.

You can tell Marcus takes care of his car; the paint is spotless, the car itself is fitted out with all of the extras, and the rims are so shiny I can see my shoes as Tyler and I slip up unnoticed beside it. Riley gestures to the car with a sweeping hand movement, and I round the front, trying to decide where I'll start.

The wrench slides down my arm and into my hand, and I feel the skin across my knuckles stretch as I grip the handle tightly. Standing at the driver's side door, I look at my reflection in the window, the hood of my jacket and the scarf around my mouth, hiding my face.

My muscles loosen, and the skin across my forehead softens as I take a deep lungful of cold air.

This is it.

This is the moment that will change everything.

It hits me like a wave of heat, rolling up my spine and sinking deep into my muscles.

I close my eyes, basking in the core-deep feeling of change, the feeling that after this there's no turning back. Everything I've kept from her, everything I've been so careful to hide, will be out in the open for her to see.

But I'm beyond hiding now.

The shockwave as the wrench hits the Porsche's door ripples up my arm, sending a jolt of pain into my shoulder, but the satisfying crunch of metal against metal is enough to dull the ache. The door shudders and the window shakes, and I can't help but smile at the beautiful fist-sized dent.

Like a starting pistol has gone off, Riley echoes my movement with one of his own.

The side windows.

The doors.

The rear window and the flashy spoiler. The metal and glass bends and shatters beneath the relentless beating, the sound bouncing off the walls of Blush, and disappearing into the empty parking lot.

Rage, unhindered and raw, roars through me. I'm so blinded by the memory of Bella's eyes – so big and so fucking innocent– that I'm halfway up the front of the car before I realise what I'm doing. Standing on the hood, I smash the wrench over and over into the glass, panting so hard that the air under my hood feels warm and stifling.

But it feels good. God, does it feel good.

I'm so full of adrenaline and rage that I barely hear the sound of the club's side door opening.

"What the fuck?!"

But Riley is already there. He lands a solid blow to the side of Marcus' face, and, blindsided, he falls to the bitumen, clutching a hand to his jaw.

The hood of the car flexes under foot as I watch Marcus, lit by the lone light bulb above the side door, lift himself from the damp ground. Like something dark and vengeful, Riley stands over him, his fist still clenched, the piece of steel pipe in his other hand.

The chassis rocks as I jump from down the hood, shattered glass tinkling against the ground as the car rights itself. I almost have to stop halfway across the parking lot. I can feel the anger coiling inside of my muscles, and feel the pulse in my throat pound against my skin. The state I'm in I don't know if I can control myself if I get any closer.

But this needs to be done. This needs to happen.

If not for her, then for me. Because Marcus deserves this for more than just what he's doing to Bella, he deserves this for just breathing. If Jasper hadn't explicitly forbid me from beating the shit out of him, I would be doing just that. Instead, i'll take from him the one thing I know he cares about.

Clenching my jaw and reigning in the urge to kick his head in, I stop a few feet away from Marcus. His dark eyes size me up from his spot on the ground, and even with a black eye forming, and two guys standing over him, he doesn't make a noise. He doesn't call for help, he doesn't plead, he doesn't beg, he doesn't make a fucking noise. His eyes are tight and his top lip curls back into a snarl that's enough to make me want to slam my fist against it.

I crouch down, resting my arms on my knees, the wrench dangling from my gloved hands.

"Do you know who I am?" he says, his voice firm.

"I don't care who you are."

He leans forward, his eyes as hard as the steel in my hand. "You should."

Riley laughs, and Marcus spits at my feet, narrowly missing my shoes. "I'll find you," he hisses, the snarl turning into something akin to a sneer. "I'll find you, and I'll kill you."

Even though he can't see my face, I can't help but smile. "You can try."

I stand, and Riley knocks Marcus hard enough that he slumps to the side. "He's all yours," he says, disappearing, leaving me along with Marcus.

The leather of my gloves squeaks as I clench my fist at my side. I have to take a deep breath to help keep the bloodlust at bay. This isn't about hurting him, it's about teaching him a lesson.

His time will come.

"You have no idea who you're fucking with," he spits, looking up at me.

A surge of rage bursts through me, and I lift the wrench over my head, as if I'm going to smash him in the head with it. God, how I want to. He cowers, holding an arm up to protect himself, but I lower it to my side instead.

"Neither do you," I say quietly, as I shove him back against the bitumen with my foot. "But you should know,"—I shove the wrench into the back of my jeans— "that I know what kind of scum you are. I know exactly what you do, and who you'll destroy to get what you want." I take a step closer so that I'm standing right over him. "But I am your worst fucking nightmare, Marcus. And if you think this is the end, then you're dumber than you look."

I step to the side, and I can see it in his eyes - the moment he spots his car across the lot.

"You're a dead man," he hisses. "A dead man, you hear me!"

I begin to back away before my anger gets the better of me.

"Have a nice night."

Riley reappears out of the darkness, and I hear the click as he retracts his pocket knife. I don't need to see beneath the scarf over his mouth to know he's got a grin from ear to ear. The hiss of the air leaving the Porsche's tires echoes through the empty lot, following us as we blend into the dark night.

* * *

She opens the door, and the smell of something cooking mingled with something that's unmistakably Bella wafts out. I have to clench my fists hard inside of my jacket pockets just to stop from reaching for her.

"You okay?" she asks, gifting me with a gentle smile.

I nod, drawing my hood back as I step into her apartment. "I'm fine."

It scares me what I'd do for this girl – for Emmett. Lie, cheat, steal, bruise, bloody, destroy – I don't know where I would stop.

She fusses around in the kitchen, humming quietly to some show Emmett has on the TV, and all I want to do is kiss her: her mouth, the long expanse of her neck, the little spot right above her cheekbones where her lashes rest – I want to taste it all. I want her so badly I can barely think or breathe or remember my own name.

But she's different. She's not the kind of girl that you just take. She deserves better that someone who takes what he wants, no matter how much it physically hurts to not be able to just kiss her. She deserves someone that she can trust, someone that can show her that she's something worth waiting for and fighting for.

Whether or not I'm that someone I still haven't decided.

* * *

 **x**


	3. Chapter 3

**Lots of you wondered where Edward went when he disappeared time after time. Well, here you go.**

* * *

"I'll be downstairs in five." Shouldering my phone, I zip my duffle bag, tossing my hat on top. "I'll wait out front for you."

Jasper makes a grunt of agreement, and I hang up, sliding my phone into my back pocket.

I can feel the cold air pressing against the window, seeping in through the cracks. I slip my hat on, throwing the hood of my jacket over the top to keep warm.

At the door I turn to check my apartment one last time. There's not much to look at as it is, bare bones. The more time I spend two doors down the more I realise that this isn't a home—it's the place I keep my stuff. It's where I eat and sleep. There's no comfort, no warmth, nothing to suggest that anyone cares, and a few months ago it was all I needed. The apartment matched the way I lead my life - simple, clean, effective.

And then she walked into my life and everything is out of control and messy and I'm considering things I never thought I would. The future. My future. It fucks with my head and spins me around and for some insane reason I can't get enough of it.

And because of this, leaving her - even if just for two nights - is goddamn torture.

She opens her front door a minute after I knock. Backlit by the warm glow of her home, Bella is everything that makes my heart race, and just seeing her makes me feel a comfort I don't get anywhere else.

"Hey," she breathes, her face lighting up.

I can't help but reach for her. Tugging her to me by the material of her T-shirt, I pull her body to mine, holding her against me. "Hey," I whisper into her hair that smells like bubblebath and my body reacts the same way it does every time I touch her.

"I can't stay," I say, leaning back to look at her properly. She reaches up to press her lips to mine, and I still can't believe that I get to kiss her. Finally.

I tell her that i'll be back, that i'll call her as soon as I am. I don't tell her that I'll probably think about her for every goddamn second i'm not there. That every second that my mind isn't otherwise occupied, I'll be thinking about coming right home to her.

Home.

Not next door where my things are, here. Her.

The sound of Emmett's bubbly giggle is followed by a splash from down the hallway. Bella sighs, pressing her head to my chest where I know she can hear my heart beating just for her. "Okay."

I want desperately to pull her back for one last kiss, but I need to go and so does she. Also, one more doesn't seem to be something we're good at. One more always turns into just... more.

"Bye."

Tucking her bottom lip into her mouth, she waves and Jesus Christ the girl has no idea what she does to me with just her mouth.

* * *

I pass the Eizadi's apartment downstairs just as the man, Amun maybe, is taking out the trash. He looks at me from beneath heavy brows, dark eyes assessing.

My stomach twists with a kick of anxiety, but I smile anyway, the strange urge for him to like me passes over me and fuck, I guess it's the closest thing I'll come to impressing a father.

From the look etched into his wrinkles features I think I have a long way to go.

* * *

The next morning, after a night spent staying out at Jasper's, he and I pull up out front of Riley's place, the exhaust fumes from my car steaming into the morning air. Riley is still half asleep as he falls into the backseat, tossing his bag in first.

"Watch it!" I snap, whipping around to glare at him.

Riley just chuckles, slinking lower in his seat.

"You smell like ball sweat and beer," says Jasper over his shoulder, and my jaw clenches at the thought of Riley making my car smell like his balls.

Glancing in the rearview mirror, I watch Riley roll up his jacket and tuck it under his head. "Yeah," he grunts. "That'll happen."

Jasper snorts. "And your breath smells like day old pussy. Did you sleep in a strip club last night, or what?" He turns to me, his eyes wide, a laugh trying to escape. "Oh. Sorry, dude."

Shaking my head, I shift hard through another gear. "You're a dick."

Both Riley and Jasper laugh, so I turn the radio up, already too eager to turn the car around. I chew on the skin of my lower lip, trying not to think about slapping Jasper across the head.

Riley pulls his cap down over his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. "Wake me up when we get there."

* * *

The drive out of state is long. Made even longer by Riley's snoring from the backseat. By the time we reach the outskirts of the city my ass is screaming and I'm ready to punch something if I don't get out of the car soon.

"Pull over," says Jasper, pointing to a gas station. "I need a smoke."

He rummages through his jacket pockets, patting around for his lighter. I can tell he's about as anxious to get out of the car as I am.

Riley stretches, scratching his stomach roughly. "Gonna take a piss. You want a something to eat?"

Both Jasper and I shake our heads, and Riley shrugs.

The gas station lights flicker overhead as the numbers tick over on the bowser. Smoke billows in front of my eyes.

"Are you really smoking that here?" I ask, gesturing to the petrol station around us.

Jasper smirks. "What the fuck is wrong with you tonight?"

One hand on the pump, I roll my shoulders, trying to release the ball of tension. "Nothing."

I can feel Jasper watching me silently, smoking his cigarette, thinking, knowing me better than I know myself.

"Your girl doing okay?"

"She's not…" I shake my head, my mouth unable to form the words to finish the sentence. "But yes, Bella is fine."

Jasper laughs quietly. "You seeing anyone else?" The glare I give him answers well enough. He smiles around the butt of his cigarette, the smoke puffing out of his nose as he laughs quietly. "So she's your girl then."

"Marcus has been quiet lately," I admit, and I can see Jasper is as worried about that as I am.

"Marcus is never quiet."

"She keeps asking questions about this though." I lift the pump from the bowser and screw the cap back into place. "About what I do."

Sighing, Jasper rests against the car beside me. "What have you told her?"

"Nothing."

"Probably best."

The desert air is warm, but nevertheless, I cross my arms over my chest like I can keep the pressure building up inside my chest in. "I'm going to have to tell her something. One day."

Jasper nods. "One day. Until then, I think it's best you keep her out of it. If Marcus finds out she's connected to you, or to me, you know he'll try to get at the family through her."

"Yeah, I know."

"You got a good thing right now," he says turning to clamp a hand on my shoulder. "Enjoy it while you can."

 _Before she finds out that you're the monster. That Marcus is nothing compared to you._

Riley appears, chips and candy bundled under his arms, a huge bottle of soda in his hand.

My eyes tighten as he approaches. "You drop crumbs on my backseat and—"

"Yeah, yeah," he says, holding up a bunch of napkins. "I got it."

* * *

"Should be it right here on the left," says Jasper, pointing to a street sign.

The three of us sit up straight, suddenly wide eyed and alert.

"Four-twenty-seven."

"What a fucking dump," says Riley, shaking his head as we pull up in front of the house. The front yard is occupied by a rusted out piece of shit Toyota, engine parts and tools strewn around it. Broken chairs and empty bottles, busted bikes and garbage bags full of who knows what are lying around, cluttering the front path.

We park across the street, a few houses down and out of sight.

I'm expecting it to be a quick stop. The last one before we head back to our hotel for the night. If it was up to me we'd drive through the night and be back by the time Bella finished work.

But it's not up to me.

I'm not the boss.

A silver bat dangles from Riley's left hand, and as we cross the street he swings it around like a batter about to step up to the plate.

"Let's make this last one quick," Jasper says, adjusting his tie. "I gotta girl at Crazy Horse with my name all over her." His eyes widen. "No offence, Ed."

I sigh, clenching my jaw. "Shut up, Jasper."

He laughs, knocking on the front door.

Tugging on the brim of my cap, I shake my head. Not the time to be thinking of Bella's ass.

Except now all I can think of is Bella's ass.

Impatience roars through me as the house remains quiet.

Riley leans over to knock again, this time with the end of the bat. "Knock, knock!"

"I'm just saying, is all," says Riley, like he's continuing a conversation I'm sure we've never had. "I'm sure Bella is a nice girl, and to be honest anyone that can get that stick up your ass to relax for a minute is a fucking goddess in my book. But it just sounds like a whole lotta drama to me."

My fist tightens around the bat in my hand, and I have to breathe through the urge to bash Riley over the head with it.

"You gotta ask yourself," he says, "if it's all worth it."

I'm so tired I barely have the energy to argue. "I swear to God, Riley, if you don't stop talking shit I'm going to ram this bat up fucking ass, you hear me?"

Knocking on the door again, louder, Jasper laughs. "Alright, alright. Both of you shut up."

Finally, we hear movement, and three of us go ramrod straight as we hear a door slam somewhere in the house.

"He's running," spits Jasper.

With everything I have, I throw myself against the front door, grunting as the locks give way and the door slams open.

Riley is off like a greyhound, pushing past me as I right myself. I can hear him banging around the house, giving chase, laughing as the guy tries his best to get away. Little does he know Riley lives for the chase, and he never backs down.

He might not look like much, weighing in at maybe one fifty pounds soaking wet and and a baby fact to boot, but the guy can wrestle, and more than that, he's a fucking animal when you need him to be. Untameable.

By the time I've dusted myself off and found the boys, Riley has the guy slumped in a kitchen chair, blood dripping from a cut above his brow, his bottom lip already swelling. Still panting, Riley stands behind, a shit-eating grin on his face as he wipes his bloody knuckles.

Jasper is the picture of calm, picking an invisible piece of lint from his expensive suit jacket.

I slip in quietly, preferring to watch for the moment.

"I'll venture a guess to say you know who I am," says Jasper, who wipes a kitchen seat off before sitting slowly.

I rest against the kitchen sink, watching the guy sweat and puff, breathing so heavy I can hear his smoker's lungs rattling.

"And since you know who I am, I'm assuming you know why I'm here."

Jasper says _here_ like he actually finds the word distasteful. He gestures to the house around us, glancing at a dirty ashtray beside him.

The place is a fucking dump. Torn fly screens, dishes piled high in the sink, the stench of unwashed bodies and clothes filtering through every room in the house. It's a goddamn shame.

The house itself isn't so bad, a little yard out back with a clothes line buried between rotting bags of garbage and knee-high weeds, decent sized kitchen with what looks to be working amenities. With some work it could be nice. I guess that's the difference between people who work hard to earn what they have, like in Bella's case, and people who just don't give a fuck.

And just like that I'm angry all over again.

Here sits this greasy piece of shit who I know has piles of cash stashed away somewhere in this house, living in a place twice, maybe three times, the size of Bella's apartment, and he treats it like shit. Happy to live in his own filth while she works hard every goddamned day just to keep her tiny piece of a living.

My jaw tenses, and I have to tap my foot to release some of the tension before I pop this guy in his own kitchen.

Jasper talks quietly, calmly to the guy. It's a straight forward matter.

Laurent runs drugs in and out of Las Vegas for Jasper - a halfway house of sorts.

Jasper pays the man for his services, Laurent handles all the street level bullshit. It's as simple as that.

Unless, of course, it isn't.

"What made you think I wouldn't find out?" asks Jasper.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me."

He's starting to sweat. "Why would I steal from you?"

"Oh, I don't know, maybe you stole from me because someone asked you to."

He gulps. "Who? I work for you!"

Jasper sighs tiredly. "A little bird told me you're cutting my drugs to sell to Marcus McFinney."

The guy's face pales. "No."

"Yes. You're diluting a premium product so that you can sell it to Marcus for a cut of the profit."

I'm silent through the whole exchange, but my hands are gripping the edge of the kitchen bench so tightly I'm sure I'm about to break something.

"I would never—"

"Look. Laurent. Please don't lie. If you lie, I'll have to ask Edward here to hurt you, and you don't want that."

Laurent looks up. I gather every ounce of restraint I have in my body, and shoot him a smile, even capping it off with a little wink. He spits at me, jerking his head in my direction.

Jasper grabs the guy's shirtfront, yanking his attention back to him. "Don't do that."

The guy makes an incredulous face. "Or what? Your girlfriend over there gonna hit me, too?"

Lowering himself to eye level, Jasper pulls Laurent closer. "I don't think you get it. I am your final warning. There is no next time. There's no next week. There's no tomorrow. I will leave with what you owe me."

"And if I don't have the money?"

Jasper just smiles, all sugar-dipped venom. "That's why Edward is here."

"Look, I told your father I would have his money by next week."

"That was two weeks ago."

"I can get it," he says confidently. "I've got it coming in this weekend, I swear."

"Go check please?" asks Jasper, and without another word Riley sets off in search of the money that guys like this always keep stashed away.

A few minutes later, he returns, a fistful of crisp, hundred dollar bills.

"You…."

Jasper's hand connects so hard with Laurent's face that he falls straight to the floor.

As Jasper stands, I step over to lift the guy back into his chair.

"How much is there?"

Tyler weighs the pile in his hand. "Five, maybe."

"Five?" Jasper shakes his head. "Laurent, that's half of what you owe me already."

"I was going to give it to you, I swear!"

Jasper is silent for a moment, again inspecting his pristine navy suit. "I'll tell you what," he says finally. "You tell me what Marcus did with that dancer of his, and I'll let you keep your fingers."

"What dancer?!" he yells. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Edward."

I grab Laurent's hand while Riley pins him to the seat. Laurent twists, trying to pull his hand from my grip, but I'm too strong. I splay his hand flat, spreading his fingers wide.

He wrestles with Riley as I pick up the dirty kitchen knife lying on the table.

I am neither quick, nor am I precise, and his screams bounce off the walls as his blood drips over the side of the table.

My hands don't shake, my palms don't sweat, and my focus doesn't waver - I'm cold as ice. Empty.

"Okay," he gasps, holding his bleeding hand to his chest. The place where his pinky was is now a bloody, messy, stump. "Marcus had me dump her out by Red Rocks. Just off the highway, past the turn off for the I95."

"Draw me a map," says Jasper, fishing his sunglasses from his pocket. "Or…" He looks down at Laurent's bloody hand. "Maybe it's best if you show us on the map."

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, we've got a map, five grand, and one more stop to make before we head back to the motel.

"You think he'll come up with the rest?" I ask, wiping my knuckles with a handkerchief Jasper has handed me.

Jasper grins. "Absolutely. Sometimes, Edward, a good beating incites a little personal growth."

As Laurent said we would, we find Leah beneath some scrub, off the highway.

Kneeling, I brush the strands of knotted hair from her face. What was once russet skin is now greying and sunken, the gunshot wound that mars the side of her head festering and dry. Flies buzz around her mouth and eyelids, and even with a stomach as strong as mine I can't bear to see what's left of the underside of her skull. The smell is bad enough.

"Jesus," gasps Riley, holding an arm over his nose.

Jasper simply sighs, tucking his hands into his pockets. "Close range. She would have seen it coming."

Swallowing the urge to vomit, I stride back to the car and pop the trunk. I wrench a pick axe from the car, and brush past the boys, heading deeper into the desert.

Riley wheels back as I push past. "What are you—"

"She deserves better than this," I spit. "She deserves to be buried properly."

I've barely hit the ground twice when I feel Riley's presence behind me, a shovel in hand. The three of us work under the blistering Nevada sun for what feels like an age, digging until the earth becomes cool and soft.

Sweat drips down my sides and over my sternum, my skin feeling raw in the sun.

Jasper helps me wrap her in a drop sheet from the trunk, the three of us lifting her deadweight into the dark hole that marks the earth. An hour later all that's left is the patch of overturned earth. I run a hand through my hair, feeling it slick back with sweat.

My hands are shaking, both from the exertion, and from the knowledge that this could be her. This could be Bella. That could be her soft, pale skin beneath the earth, her beautiful eyes, so deep with emotion, rotting in her skull.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," says Riley.

Both Jasper and he get back into the car while I take one more moment.

Staring at the overturned earth, visions of leaving this wretched life behind appear in my mind. I imagine throwing everything I have into a bag and driving until the city becomes nothing but a memory. My heart gives a painful lurch as I see Bella sitting beside me, the wind in her hair as she clutches Emmett in her lap.

A dozen emotions pump through me, the very most of which is something I never thought I'd feel. Something I never thought I'd be _capable_ of feeling.

Love.

I kick a clump of dirt, shaking my head at myself.

I can't believe that amidst all this shit, all this bullshit, that I've fallen in love. And not just with Bella, but with Emmett. The kid has somehow wormed his way under the exterior I so carefully craft and buried himself deep in my chest, in my heart.

It's completely disarming, and I feel blindsided by it, but the more I think about it, the more right it feels.

Jesus help me, I'm in love.

* * *

Sooner than I'd ever thought possible, I find out just how painful the reality of being in love can be.

It's after four in the morning when the sound of my phone buzzing across the nightstand wakes me, my thumb swiping the screen before I'm even fully awake.

"Edward?"

I'm awake.

Her voice is shaky, breathy, filled with the kind of emotion that makes my heart race and my chest ache. My first thought is of Emmett.

"Someone broke in," she says, her voice wobbling.

"Tell your Mom i'll call her in the morning," grunts Riley from the bed beside mine.

He shuts up quick smart after I tell him to fuck off.

Pacing, I make Bella tell me exactly what's happened. From the sound of it, someone busted through her front door and turned the place over. The sound of her crying over Emmett's presents makes my knees wobble with emotion. My strong, brave, headstrong girl is breaking and I'm completely powerless to help. I feel so utterly helpless and it makes me insane.

The need to have she and Emmett in my arms, to have them safe, is enough to make me want to jump in the car right the fuck now and burn through the night just to be there. Knowing Emmett is safe with the Eizadi's is about the only thing stopping me from doing it.

"Go to my place. I want you to lock the door and don't open it for anyone."

I tell her about the key there. The one I left since I couldn't seem to stop locking myself out of my own apartment. At least I know she'll be safe there. The only person who knows about my apartment is Jasper.

My hands are practically destroying my hair, and I can feel Riley behind me, now awake in his bed, watching me pace the length of the motel room.

Bella stays on the line until I know she's safe, locking herself inside my apartment.

"Thank you," she says, her voice raspy with emotion.

Swallowing through a throat tight with rage, I close my eyes. "Bella?"

"Yeah?"

I consider telling her how desperately in love with her I am. How not even two hundred miles and a desert could keep me from her. But I don't.

"I'll see you soon."

* * *

 **Love you guys.**

 **x Wink**


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